Harry Potter and the Adventure He Affectionately Calls Life

"Do you think he did it?" Ginny asked Ron at breakfast the next morning.

"He has to," Ron replied.

"I don't see Draco as the type to turn down a dare," Hermione commented, looking up from a thick book she was reading.

"Here he comes," Ginny said, waving at him. He came and sat down next to her, kissing her cheek. "How did it go?"

"I don't think I can ever look at Filch or Fiora in the same way ever again."

Ron burst out laughing. "That response alone is good enough. You don't need to be questioned.

Draco glared at him. "I can't believe you made me do that. What kind of sick, twisted man makes someone do that?"

"I can't believe you did it."

"Not only did I do that, but I decided to take it one step higher. With the aid of Potter's cloak, I was able to..." He fished inside his bag and pulled out a small notebook. He cleared his throat and read: "The Secret Diary of Fiona Fiora. Anyone who dares to read this without my permission shall be most regretful. I will make sure of that."

"Let's read it," Lana said excitedly.

"Let's not," Harry said. "If it's anything like Filch's..."

"Put it away!" Hermione lectured. "Fiora's sitting at the staff table. Do I have to remind you of this?"

Draco stuffed the notebook back in his bag. "Let's read it tonight," he said. "I'll come by later when I return Potter's cloak, and we can read it."

Lana grinned. "Excellent."

"No, not excellent," Harry said. "The last thing I need is Fiora's diary."

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun."

"No way. Filch is a busy guy. He has to keep awake to make sure there isn't anyone sneaking about the castle. And he has to go with the third and fourth years into Hogsmeade whenever there's a trip. But Fiora... technically she has weekends off. And nights, too. So while Filch might say, 'Fiona and I had sex tonight,' Fiora might be able to go into all sorts of details that I think I'm better off not knowing."

"Harry's right," Hermione said. "But then again, Harry, if you're so grossed out by the thought of the diary, cover your ears."

"Or better yet, don't come at all," Draco suggested.

"Harry'll be there," Lana insisted. "Right, Harry?"

"I'll be there," he grumbled, frowning when Lana flashed him a grin.

"Hello, Gryffindors!" Draco said cheerfully after the Big Pink Blob had allowed him in. "I'm here!"

Two first years working on a Charms parchment glanced up at him with confused looks on their faces.

"Carry on," Draco said with a royal wave of his hand. "I'll show myself up." He entered a room marked H. Potter and R. Weasley. "I think that's the room," he murmured to himself.

"Did you bring it?" Harry demanded upon his entry.

"Yeah. The journal is in my bag."

"Not that," he said irritably. "My cloak."

"Oh, yeah. It's in my bag, too."

"Can I have it?"

Draco gave it back to him and watched as he locked it safely back in his trunk. "Where are the ladies?"

"They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Correction," Lana said, coming down and sitting on Ron's bed. "We're here." Hermione made herself comfortable on Ron's bed while Ginny fished out a chair from underneath a pile of her brothers dirty Quidditch gear.

"So who will be reading?"

One by one, everyone except Draco looked at Ron.

"What?" he demanded after seeing everyone look at him. "Why me? It's always me!"

"Exactly," Lana said, handing her cousin the diary. "It's your job."

"It's always me," Ron whined. "I can't do this; it'll scar me for life."

"Gryffindor bravery, Weasel."

"Shut it, Malfoy."

"Oh, just read," Harry said. "The sooner we start, the sooner we can finish. Malfoy, you'll have to return it."

"No way. I'm not going back in there."

"You're the only one who knows where it's supposed to go!"

"So? Just leave it lying around. Filch'll find it. Maybe he'll read it, then he'll give it back to her."

Harry considered this. "Okay."

"Can I just read?" Ron asked, sighing a resigned sigh at Fiora's diary. "November 18th..."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

November 18th...
Stupid kids. They almost made me get in trouble. Getting fired from here is not an option. So I showed the brats the Liquid Fire. I held it over Lana Weasley's head. That was hilarious. I wish I had a camera to capture the look of sheer terror on her face. I could practically hear her thinking, 'not my hair. Oh God, no. Not my beautiful hair. I'm such a dumb idiot. I can't think for myself, I'm not very smart. How will my darling Harry love me if I'm not beautiful?' (Lana scowled at this, and Ron continued reading.) In the end, I poured it over a letter that Draco Malfoy was writing. No doubt trashy romance to Ginny Weasley. Then there were minor interruptions. The best part of the day was lifting that useless gnome, Flitwick, five feet into the air and sending him to crash into a bookshelf.

"This isn't that bad," Draco said optimistically. "I mean, yeah, she's a miserable human being, but at least it's not going to give me nightmares until my grandchildren go here."

"I was not thinking that when she held that stuff over my head," Lana insisted, shivering at the memory. "I wasn't!"

"Can I stop reading yet?" Ron asked hopefully.

"No," Draco said without hesitation. "You read that until we've heard every single entry out loud."

Ron grumbled incoherently.

November 19th...
I think I've made a mistake placing Lana Weasley and Draco Malfoy together in class. They seem to be bickering all the time, yet they are friends. I don't understand. I hate friends. Last I heard, there was some tension between them. If I had known the tension had been released, I never would have put them there. They talked about that stupid soap opera today. In the end, I lost my temper and slapped Mr. Malfoy across the face. That felt good. (Draco and Hermionie made eye contact at this point and burst out laughing, both obviously remembering their third year.) I think I might get fired. Damn.

December 11th...
Argus and I went to Hogsmeade for a few drinks today. I'm able to hold my liquor. Argus apparantly isn't. I had to levitate him back to his room. He was disgustingly drunk, saying outrageous things to me like 'Fiona, you're beautiful' and 'Don't leave.' So I sat with him until he fell asleep. I eventually fell asleep, too, and I woke up naked in his bed with his arms around me. He swears he didn't do anything. I believe him. I assume I have enough of a reputation around this school so that all the idiots who are part of the 'Hogwarts Family' won't bother me. What a stupid phrase. 'Hogwarts Family.' It disgusts me. Everything about Albus and his sappy sayings disgust me.

December 25th...
Argus didn't have a present to give me today, so he took me out for dinner. I do admit it was quite nice. At the end of the night, he walked me back to my room. Honestly, I am not a little child anymore. I don't need the night guard to walk me back to my room. Anyway, he leaned in for a kiss. Fiona Fiora does not do kisses. I completely ignored him, opening my room and as I turned around to say good-night, he picks me up, shuts my room door, and places me on my bed. I haven't been with a man in so long. He was quite skillful at the art of sex. I expected him to be a virgin...

Ron stared at the journal, frozen with fear of what the next page held.

"Filch..." Harry choked out. "Skillful..." He shuddered.

Ron threw the journal down. "I can't do it anymore," he insisted. "Lock me in a room with spiders if you must, but I can't read this."

"Spiders?" Draco commented in curiosity. "What's so bad about spiders? When I was younger, my father would lock me in a glass box with three holes for air, and he would fill it up with spiders or roaches." He shrugged. "They're not going to hurt you."

Ron paled.

"I'll take over for a while," Harry offered, trying to relieve his best fried of the responsibility. "But you have to listen."

Ron nodded, still pale and still staring at Draco in shock and admiration.

December 25th... (continued from previous page)
He smiled at me when it was over, and I was surprised to find that I found myself complete. Who would have ever looked at Argus Filch and assumed that he gave me multiple orgasms that night? I have never felt like that before. Just thinking about it while I write this makes me want to strip off my robes and find Argus and pin him down while he works his magic on me.

January 1st...
There's been an attack on one of the Gryffindor students. Hermione Granger was in an accident while singing in Harry Potter's bar. She probably sucked at singing anyway, and although I cannot stand that stupid know-it-all, I want her back in my class. She's fun to taunt.

"It wasn't a bar, it was a club. And Hermione didn't suck." Harry's lower lip curled in distaste, but he turned the page.

January 15th...
I see Argus as useless sex, something to fill my time with. Maybe even someone to make the nights go by faster. Maybe even as a friend. I'm not used to having friends. People seem to get the idea that I'm a bitch. (Draco snorted at this.) I don't think Argus just sees me as a friend. He always uses the term 'make love.' I hate that term. I hate love.

February 9th...
I borrowed a book from Severus. It showed many new positions, some of them incredible with a man like Argus. When we finished for the night, he said he loved me. How disgusting. I could never love a man like Argus. The though alone makes me want to brew myself a potion to erase that memory. Argus is hideous. This is why I keep my eyes closed when he kisses me. Ugh. Argus. Love. Something must be done. Of course, as these thoughts were going through my mind, he picked my book, opened to a random page, and said 'let's try that one.' So we did, and he fell off the bed and injured his arm.

February 14th...
HE ASKED ME TO MARRY HIM! IT WAS A NICE RING, A BEAUTIFUL RING, BUT TO ARGUS?! I told him I couldn't but he just wouldn't listen. He kept insisting that he loved me and then he just kissed me, and I will never turn down sex. Ever. But marriage... to that fool... no. I will not have that happen.

Draco slammed the book shut. "That's enough, Potter."

The girls nodded, their eyes wide open.

Ron had curled himself into a little ball. "No..." he kept saying. "I'll never be able to look at either of them in the same way."

Hermione sighed. "Filch loves her. That's so romantic."

"Yeah," Lana said wistfully. "I can't believe he proposed!"

"I can't believe she turned him down!"

Draco glared at them. "I can't believe you think it's romantic! Filch and Fiora doing... that is completely disgusting."

Lana rolled her eyes. "Drakie, calm down. Sure, it's gross. But look beyond the grossness. He's just a man in love, and she's... a bitch."

"We have to return the journal," Ginny reminded everyone. "Draco, you know where it's kept. You put it back."

"Oh no," he said. "Not me."

"Well no one else knows."

"Let's just leave it somewhere. Filch'll find it!"

"DRACO!" the three girls said in unison, all three of them glaring at him.

"Or not..." He looked at the girls and frowned. "I'll take it back," he grumbled. "It's on the way back downstairs, anyway."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The weather was starting to warm up now. It was a cool spring day in the first week of April. Harry was sitting on a picnic blanket leaning against the trunk of a tree. Lana's head rested peacefully in his lap, her body gently moving up and down as she took small breaths in her sleep. Harry looked up at the clouds and sighed contentedly. It was days like this when he could relax with his friends that he didn't have to worry about his dead parents or Voldemort or pimples. He was just a sixteen-year-old boy.

Of course, he was a sixteen-year-old boy that was eventually going to have to save the world.

Or die trying.

But that was a different thought for a different time. Right now Harry enjoyed having his girlfriend asleep in his arms while he was feeling rather sleepy himself. He let his eyes wander down to the lake, squinting against the reflection of the sunset on the water. There was a figure by the lake, and it was coming towards him. Harry yawned, not really caring who it was as long as it wasn't Snape. Or Fiora. Or Filch. He'd rather it not be McGonagall, either, but wouldn't mind horribly if it was.

"Good day, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up. "Good day, Mr. Crivellare."

"Lovely out, isn't it?"

"Oh. Yeah, lovely." Harry wondered what Mr. Crivellare wanted with him now. He was rarely good news.

"So how have you been holding up?"

Harry frowned. "Fine," he said. "I've been great."

"Preparing yourself for the battle?"

Harry chuckled. The upcoming Quidditch game against Slytherin next week had been called "the battle" by everyone. "Yeah. But even if they beat us by a little, it's not going to be too bad." Harry wished Mr. Crivellare would go away. He was starting to get a headache, and just wanted the comfort of the sun setting with his girlfriend, even if she was asleep.

"Yes, well... good luck with that."

"Thank you," Harry said politely.

"Well... if you'll excuse me..." Mr. Crivellare nodded his head as a good-bye, then walked off. When he was out of earshot, he muttered, "Quidditch. How stupid."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside his office, Albus Dumbledore paced nervously back and forth. He fiddled with a feather in his fingers. With a sigh, he pulled out his wand. "Alohamora!" he said to the lock that kept a small box closed. The lock opened at once, and Albus looked inside.

Letters. All addressed to him. When he received the first one, he assumed it was a prank of some sort. Either from a certain Slytherin, or from either Fred or George Weasley. But the letters had kept coming, and after the three hundred and eighty first letter, Albus was starting to worry.

And we all know how quite rare it is for him to worry.

Albus picked out a letter at random. He unfolded it carefully, read the message, and sighed. They say seven, what's wrong with six? Albus crumbled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace, watching as it ignited and burnt, now no longer anything but a pile of ashes. He picked up another one, unfolding it with equal care. I'm tired of waiting. He tossed it, too, into the fireplace, then lifted out all of the letters. Tucked carefully into a hidden corner of the box was another letter, one that made him worry more than any of the others.

You think you're ready for me, Albus. You're not. Your strongest weapon against me will be of no use. Of course, the fact that I have been watching you closely for months on end only adds to my success. Warn your precious Harry Potter of this. "You know who"

He had no doubt it was Voldemort. He wondered how Voldemort was watching him, if he was seeing him read the letters. I taught you, Tom, he thought to himself, running a long, bony finger over the papers. You were under my care and instruction for seven years. How does a prize pupil like Tom turn into a monster?

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He quickly returned the letter to the box before saying, "come in."

Tomás Crivellare poked his head in. "Hello."

"Ah, Tomás! How was your walk?"

"Lovely. I saw Harry Potter and Lana Weasley outside."

"Well, it is a lovely day to be outside."

"Oh yes," Tomás murmured, eyeing the box with curiosity.

Albus locked the box and returned it to where it belonged. "Did you need something?"

"Yes, actually. I wanted to thank you for letting me stay here all year. I'm sure that having one additional thing to worry about must not have been easy. Everyone here has been very kind, and I've learned many new things."

"Why, Tomás, it sounds like you're leaving us."

At this, Tomás smiled. "I am. The first of May."

Albus smiled in return. "Well, you are always welcome back here."

"Thank you." He feigned a yawn and excused himself, leaving Albus alone with a head full of thoughts. He looked out of his window down to see Harry sleeping against the trunk of a tree, Lana Weasley fast asleep in his arms. I wonder if I should warn him... He does need to know...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry woke up because a shadow was blocking the soothing warmth and light of the sun. He squinted his eyes to see Professor Snape glaring down at him. That's a hell of a good morning, Harry thought, stretching lazily.

"Miss Weasley is snoring almost as loudly as you were. I believe we should use you two for a foghorn next time the weather does not cooperate."

Harry said nothing.

"In any case, I've not coming to comment on your noises. The Headmaster wishes to see you. Immediately."

Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"

"How the hell should I know?" Snape asked. "Do I look like I know what he wants. He just told me to come get you, and I've done that."

Lana shifted in Harry's lap. "Asshole," she said in her sleep, snoring in between her monologue. "Don't worry, Harry... Snape's an asshole. Fiora. Filch. Snape. All horrible people."

Harry avoided looking at Snape at all cost, choosing to shake his girlfriend awake.

"Huh?" Lana rubbed her eyes, looking at Snape. She blushed. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor?" she guessed.

"I was going to say five," he said with a slightly amused look on his face. "But I've no problem with fifteen."

"How about we take an average of ten?" she suggested with an angelic grin.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Okay." Harry stared at them in shock. "Potter. Headmaster. Now."